


wise men say

by saltandburnit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, POV Retelling with Extra Scenes, POV Victor Nikiforov, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandburnit/pseuds/saltandburnit
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov should have known better than to fall for the Japanese skater that danced into his arms out of nowhere. But he didn't. And yet, despite their ups and downs, there was nothing he would change, for the end and the journey that led them there, were worth everything he had to give.





	wise men say

**Author's Note:**

> Warning~ This is not a linear narrative so mind the gaps!

 

****

A soft couch, a fuzzy blanket. A warm body in his arms. The heat trapped in their little cocoon comforting like the first rays of sun after the rain. The glint of gold reflecting the light and he had never been so glad for a glare. He wrapped his arms tighter around the treasure in his grasp, leaned down to place a tender kiss on the tiny patch of bare skin peeking underneath his own sweater.

His kiss turned into a grin at the sound of content his love let out, a sound he felt vibrating against his chest with their bodies knit so closely together.

“You’re clingy today.”

“I’m always clingy,” he countered, planting another kiss.

“You’re _extra_ clingy.”

“I’m always extra.”

 _“Viktor!”_ The sound of his laughter as he shifted in his embrace caused a flutter in his heart, no matter how many times he had been graced with that beautiful melody already.

A heart that stopped when those big brown eyes turned his way, half lidded, matching the tug of his lips to perfection.

Yuuri tilted his head at his intense gaze. “What are you thinking about…?”

* * *

 

It came out of nowhere and all at once. You could have given him a thousand years and he wouldn’t have been prepared for it.

A giddy smile, bright like a sun that hadn’t reached his eyes for years, showered his world in colors as his heart threatened to break free from his chest, overwhelmed with affection for this lively, wonderful hurricane that had barged into his life uninvited but so _so_ welcome. And that storm picked him up and made him dance and made him _his._ Eyes sweet like melted chocolate, shining brighter than any star he had ever seen gazed upon him and he knew then, he never wanted to look away again.

 

* * *

 

Returning home was hard. Some part of him didn’t; it remained there, in that moment, in that night where everything was exciting, was _alive_ and that part of him waited desperately for that abundance of feelings. The fire still quietly burning in his soul longed for the spark he had left there.

The soft laughter he greeted his beloved pet with upon his return was genuine, breathless like the first gasp of air to a man drowning. How amazing it felt to _breathe._

“Makkachin!” he gathered the fluffy dog in his arms, grinning at her happy response. She was glad for him, of course she was, even Makkachin could tell the difference. “Makkachin, something _incredible_ happened!”

The dog yipped and he felt the smile reach blue eyes warm with hope.

 

The fire flickered, waned. The hope _ached_ in his chest, until he wondered if it was worth it- to suffer, to wait for something that refused to return to him. For someone that refused to show up. Why why why _why?_

 

* * *

 

 _Stay Close To Me_ … Yuuri skated to words of love and longing with a gentle, yet passionate expression on his face that hid a thousand secrets and just as many truths that were unreachable to him from where he was. _Stay Close To Me, Don’t Ever Leave,_ he skated, even though he left and Viktor was alone, lost, bereft to understand a message that perhaps he wasn’t supposed to receive in the first place.

 _Why weren’t you at Worlds?_ He despaired. _Look at you…_ His skating was an art, the music becoming one with him as though it was playing straight from his heart, as though his very soul was singing out so he could _dance_ and Viktor’s program had never looked so _real,_ so honest.

_“Be my coach, Viktor!”_

Is that what he needed? To skate like that for the rest of the world? All right. All right, he could do that.

 

* * *

 

There was nothing quite as mind-numbingly terrifying as the sound of the _crack_ of something hitting the ice that should have _never_ hit the ice that way.

_“Yuuri!”_

The blood rushing frenzied through his veins was more frozen than the ground he was slipping on as he stumbled without skates to reach the fallen figure faster. Faster, faster, that sounded _bad_ , go _faster_. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri hissed as he tried to change the awkward position he had landed in and by the time a panting, wide eyed Viktor was by his side, his normally soft face was scrunched up with tension. Once he looked up however, the pained look faltered, settled into something just a hint more gentle, even if the smile he tried to give was wobbly at best.

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat.

His knees complained as he landed on the ice a little less carefully than he should, hands hovering uncertainly over him, unsure.

“Viktor-” Yuuri tried, a gloved hand reaching for _his_ shoulder instead. “Viktor, it’s fine. I’m okay. Nothing an ice pack and some rest can’t fix.” A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, betraying the falseness of his words.

He frowned, concern and disappointment- _not at Yuuri, never at Yuuri-_ tainting his expression. “Don’t try and comfort me, as if I’m the one injured.”

“But you look so _hurt_ ,” Yuuri chuckled with a strained breath and Viktor had to hide his head in his hands for just a moment, because nobody told him what coaching was going to be like, if this was even coaching to begin with.

 

* * *

 

Uncertainty circled around his heart like a ribbon, waiting for that one startle, that one failure that would give it that single, terrible _tug_ it needed to _crush him_. Despite his smiles, his excitement, the impulsiveness of his decision was not lost on him and he had had a flight long enough to force into his mind all the scenarios of what could wrong, all the phrases in which it was possible to say that this was a terrible idea and he had ruined _everything_ for a man that hadn’t even bothered to contact him after the night that for him, his life had been changed. By the time he landed, his chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe through his trademark million dollar smile that had him all but gritting his teeth in its forced nonchalance.

Posters greeted him at the train station, froze him on his spot. The knot in his heart loosened at the sight, the barest bit, just so he could sigh, just so his smile could soften. His stomach still twisted with nerves, but he could breathe with a little more ease with the knowledge that at least, at _least_ he would see him. Even if he turned him away- even if he didn’t want him- he would _see_ Yuuri again. And if he turned him down then closure was sure to come, more than that tormenting radio silence could grant him.

His family resembled him. It was a heartwarming realization, even though he couldn’t quite say why the idea made him happy. And by the time he was finally reunited with the person he had traveled across continents to see, the warm water had managed to dissolve some of his nervous energy, even if it meant he would have to have this conversation in a little less than dignified way. Then again, he would be lying if he said he was here solely for the coaching offer.

Yuuri freaked out, but he didn’t turn him down.

His heart sang and the fire sparked just a little.

 

* * *

 

 _“Viktor~ ! Isn’t this fun?”_ The sound was criminally distorted, coming from the speakers of his phone, but ecstatic laughter reached his ears just fine, the memory clear in his mind even if the video feed wasn’t. And that laugh, that _laugh_ , that smile melted into one with Yuuri’s nervous -s _cared?_ \- stammers in his mind until it morphed into flowing, molten rejection that burned hotter than the fire he kept trying so hard to hold on to.

And here, in a foreign country, his future uncertain, his decisions questionable at best, the rejection may have burned but it wasn’t warm enough to keep the fear from bringing tears to his eyes.

It had snowed that day. An oddity, just like himself. Not belonging.

He closed his eyes and wished for the sun to bring its warmth in the morning.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t want to leave.

Adjusting had been both easy and painfully hard, as he had been welcomed with open arms by Yuuri’s family, when the man himself still kept a distance Viktor could not bridge no matter how he tried, though try he did. However, the longer he remained, the longer he saw a person he had thought shining in a lively confidence and endless energy, yet had met shy, reserved, with a glass heart but sparkling just as brightly even if he could not see it in himself- the longer he saw him try so hard, the more he wanted to stay, to keep his promise. Most of all, to make him see himself the way Viktor looked at him.

He was determined to make that happen, no matter how Yuuri felt for him. It was the least he could do to repay him for the greatest night of his life.

So when Yurio came and demanded him back… he didn’t want to _leave._

A glimpse of Yuuri’s heartbroken face at the request tugged at something inside of him, but he couldn’t deny Yurio what he had promised him. For the first time since he had come here, Yuuri would have to prove he wanted him to stay.

 

* * *

 

He had that song stuck in his head for three days now. Each time he would hum it, a rose blush would tint Yuuri’s cheeks, which only made him more inclined to remind him of that melody. What he neglected to mention however, was that it was his skater’s video of that program that got the song echoing in his head day after day after day, a plight worth it for he had found a gem in the recommended section he had failed to notice before.

A _duet._

Now what could they ever do with that?

 _“Yuuri~_ I had an idea!” Viktor announced, raising his eyes from his notebook to see the end of Yuuri’s warm up. He couldn’t fight back the tug of his lips at the sight of him heading his way, the familiar, sharp sound of blades against ice providing the comfort he needed to voice his proposal. “So, when you win-”

“If I win,” Yuuri interjected quickly, his brows furrowed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm.

“ _When_ you win-”

“ _If I win.”_

Viktor turned narrowed eyes at his direction, batting his lashes with a tight expression on his face, waiting for the agreement he was not going to be refused. Surely enough, a defeated sigh came soon, which was almost ironic considering what was being discussed in the first place.

His answering smile was so wide he could have sworn he made hearts with his mouth alone. “So _when you win_ ,” he continued, promptly ignoring the roll of his eyes, because that would be _rude, Yuuri_. “… you’re going to have to do an exhibition, right?”

There was almost palpable fear in his eyes as he choked out a startled _yes_? which was more of a question than agreement.

“I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

 _What do you want me to be to you_?

He lay awake that night, recalling their conversation. Makkachin had already gone to sleep with their new friend and though his first thought was _traitor_ , most of all he wished he could join them, for now he was missing the warmth of them both. So he clutched the pillow to his chest, cold but soft, the tiniest bit preferable to sleeping with his arms empty again, _again, again_. He closed his eyes, lowered his head into the fabric, pressed his face roughly against it.

 _What do you want me to be to you_?

The poster boy, the star athlete, the _Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov_ , they all wanted something, each and every one of them, but not- but never-

_I just want you to be Viktor._

Teeth gnawed harshly on his lips, a step away from drawing blood. Was that okay? Was that enough? Was it really?

 _I just want you to be yourself,_ Yuuri had said and Viktor’s heart had _weeped_ with joy but whimpered in fear.

Would that truly be enough for you to _like_ me?

Am I enough for you to love me?

 

* * *

 

_“Viktor, no!”_

“Yes!”

Chuckles carefree, soft like the fluttering of wings filled his heart with joy and he followed along, letting laughter escape his own lips as he twirled around with Yuuri in his arms. Their messy attempt of a lift was something less than that, yet so much more at the same time.

Careful despite their light-hearted mood, Viktor lowered him to the ground, removing his hands from the other’s waist long after his blades had scraped the ice. His head tilted to the side, a faint twist on his lips, he raised his brow, not bothering to hide the hope in his voice.

“Again?”

“Should we really be spending time-?”

“Your _coach_ says it’s okay!”

 

* * *

 

There were various knickknacks in his house growing up. His mother was the kind of person who loved those small, precious-looking things, loved to leave tiny hints of memories scattered around the house. As a child, their sentimental value meant very little to him, the vast majority of them seemed nothing more than toys his mama was being far too serious with.

So when after an act of childish naivety, tears trickled down his cheeks without mercy, sparkling like the broken glass on the floor in front of him, he would have thought his mother’s regretful scolding would have remained clear in his mind, a warning he would not be able to disobey.

_“Vitya, haven’t I told you not to play with delicate glass?”_

He had thought it had been enough but twenty years later and he had learned _nothing_.

“ _Why would you tell me such a thing as if you’re trying to test me_?”

The crack in Yuuri’s voice reminded Viktor of shattered crystal and sorrowful eyes, yet his own memories couldn’t have prepared him for the fear he saw in those brown eyes he had come to cherish. No, no, he hadn’t meant for that, he _never_ wanted that. _Yuuri-_

_“You don’t have to say anything! Just stay by my side!”_

He cursed his own lips for his inability to move, to shape the words screaming in his mind that his heart longed to say, before Yuuri turned around and headed inside. Something painful clawed at his chest, a reminder of the hurt he had caused, yet the words were still lost somewhere in the breath that was taken from him.

_For as long as you’ll have me, I promise._

 

* * *

 

The first few weeks after the Grand Prix banquet, Viktor was on a cloud. Certain that Yuuri was _definitely_ going to contact him, he just needed time to settle back into his routine surely and they were both busy with Nationals, but he would show up soon, so soon, Viktor radiated an aura of contentment that protected him like a shield against all comments people made against them.

Because you could tell something was different about him. You could tell in the sunshine of his smile, the graceful energy of his movements as he glided across the ice with a passion fully regained. He skated to a song of longing, reaching out with gestures delicate yet full of hope, as though he could see who he was calling out to and he could see them returning those feelings in full, so they would both find the bliss cruelly absent from their lives for so long.

However, Katsuki Yuuri had failed to call so far and as breathtaking as seeing Viktor bloom once more could be, if he fell as he was, the distance would be too great for his lonely heart to bear.

“Don’t fall, you fool…” he heard Yakov mutter one day, shaking his head, after a run through of his program so emotional his heart had slid without resistance all the way to his sleeve.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Never did Viktor listen to his coach, anyway.

 

* * *

 

The same lips he had cursed moments ago, felt blessed as they found another’s. The touch, though gentle, overwhelmed all senses; all but that deep protective instinct which guided a hand to raven looks, cradling his head before it could collide with the ice. Cameras flashed all around them, cheering surrounded them. None of it registered but the body held tight in his arms.

His name spilled from Yuuri’s lips, breaking through to his flooded senses, for it was a call he would never- _could_ never ignore.

Could Yuuri tell how his arms trembled when he lifted himself up to grant him all of his attention? And he was so _close_ and his gaze held so much neither of them could say. However bliss was betrayed in that telltale sparkle of his eyes and Viktor had to smile just so he could keep himself from crying.

“It was the only thing I could think of…”

 

* * *

 

Neither of them ever managed to guess with success which of their friends had decided to send it. However, the t-shirt for Yuuri that had arrived in the mail shortly after moving in together never failed for bring both a smile and a suspiciously red tint over his cheeks and nose to Viktor.

 _“I got kissed on National Television,”_ it read. The betting pool for Phichit and Chris had the former winning by a hair’s width.

 

* * *

 

Viktor didn’t fancy himself a good coach. Despite the confidence that appeared to roll off of him in waves, he had enough self-awareness to realize he had so much to learn about the job. The events in the Cup of China only solidified that opinion. He hadn’t considered himself a particularly bad one either, however. He had helped Yuuri some, they were making progress and he believed in his ‘student’ enough to know he could win if he put his mind to it. He hadn’t considered himself a bad coach.

Until then.

Because if there was a _coaching for dummies_ handbook somewhere out there, then he could bet with absolute certainty that one of the instructions inside would be Don’t Do _This._

Because what the hell kind of coach left in the middle of the competition to travel across _continents_?

He hid his head in his hands, the roughness of the chair he was perched upon a welcome punishment. The waiting area of the airport was bustling with people and just this once Viktor wished with all his heart that nobody would come to talk to him. Makkachin was at his feet, rubbing her head against his thighs, unknowingly reminding him of the crucial reason as to why he had been such a terrible terrible coach.

Even though the dog’s presence was comforting, grounding, the image of Yuuri flubbing again and again on the ice, the worry lines etching his forehead at the kiss and cry remained in his mind with no intention to ever stop haunting him. He should have been there. He should have been there. He should have-

_Woof!_

The gasp rattled his chest for only a moment, before he was sprinting across the busy room, refusing to take his eyes off of the man on the other side of that tormenting glass. He had promised himself and he had promised Yuuri, he would never look away. I’ve failed you once, not again, never again-

Yuuri’s intention appeared to be the same. And even over the sounds of his own heart hammering against his chest, he could have sworn it sounded like- oh, it almost sounded like-

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal…”

 

* * *

 

 _“Yuuri~”_ Viktor chirped, wrapping his arms on his beloved laying next to him on the bed. _“Yuuri, we’re getting_ married _!”_ he whispered, not at all concerned over the groan he received in the form of a reply.

_“Vitya. Go to sleep.”_

_“I think I got my vows almost ready. Want to hear?”_

_“It’s_ 3am!” Yuuri protested, though made no move to remove himself from the embrace.

_“So?”_

_“I’m getting a divorce.”_

“Yuuri!”

 

* * *

 

When he had first met Yuuri, that night, that _dance_ , the glimpse of the life he could have had if only he tried, if only he wanted it badly enough -or so he thought-, he had felt the man’s presence in his life like the first breath of fresh air, when he hadn’t even known he had been slowly suffocating. But Yuuri came and he could breathe, more and _more_ freely the longer they remained together, as he got to know him, as he got to fall for him all over again, properly this time.

His life. His love.

The very air in his lungs.

_“After the Final, let’s end this.”_

So why couldn’t he _breathe?_

When was the last time tears flowed freely down his cheeks, when his chest felt so hollow and he _choked_ but made no sound, the silent rivers releasing his overflowing emotion the only sign of his sorrow to the world? To _his_ world?

Yuuri reached to see, _not to comfort_ , but to see and he batted his hand away, because how could he _gawk_ at him like that, without realizing what he was taking away from him? To offer him a life on the ice without the very person who urged him to go on was a cruel punishment for a crime Viktor could not remember committing, yet would do anything, in a beat of his shattered heart, if it meant he could win back his _everything_.

 

* * *

 

By the time the silver was fought and won, they had both realized that maybe more than anything, skating was the language they shared in best way. So, when they next spoke, their shared words were understood, their touches meant everything at once.

_Stay Close To Me._

The hand brushing his cheek filled his veins with warmth, the strain in his arms as he lifted him in the air granted him a renewed strength.

_And Never Leave._

Happiness rushed through him with nothing to hold it back. His heart beat loud enough to almost mask the sound of the name it was calling.

 

* * *

 

 _“Hey_ ,” Yuuri cradled his cheek with his hand, frowning at the faraway look on his face. “Vitya? You okay?”

The content sigh could not be halted at his lips, as he snuggled more comfortably with his husband on the couch. “I’ve never been better, _luchik_.”

A quiet sound of barely masked satisfaction slipped from Yuuri at a pet name he _still_ wasn’t used to, despite the abundance of loving nicknames Viktor had showered him with over the years. He let his head fall back against Viktor’s chest, who wasted no time in burying his face in his favorite locks of jet black hair. “So? What are you thinking about?”

Viktor laughed, a gentle, breathless sound they both felt in their chests. “Oh, nothing. I just have the sweetest song stuck in my head…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ... ^^;  
>  For anyone who did not get the ending line, check the title of the story. This is basically a songfic without a song XD  
> This started out as a fluff piece that turned considerably less fluffy as the fic went on, but it was nice to get it out of my system, I hope you liked it! Don't forget to leave a comment before you go. You can always find me on tumblr under saltfics.tumblr.com !


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